A white boat blocked the way, and paper figures welcomed the guests.
Under the moonlight, everyone in the Southern Branch Troupe looked deathly pale.
Troupe Master Zhao Qigong glanced at the Head Steward beside him. The old man, who already had one foot in the grave, immediately understood and hurried from the bow into the cabin, though no one knew what he had gone to fetch.
The fleet had been stopped.
Or perhaps... they had already reached their destination.
That ghost had come out to "welcome" them.
"Head ashore!"
At Zhao Qigong's shout, all eight boats, one large and seven small, began to move.
"Brothers! This time, either its soul is destroyed, or you and I go to the underworld together!"
"Bring all your gear!"
Zhao Qigong shouted into the night with all his strength.
His voice had considerable power to rally people, but before that enormous white paper boat and the densely packed paper boys and girls, it seemed rather feeble.
Rather than fighting for a chance to survive... they simply had no choice.
On the musicians' boat, Qin Manjiang glanced at the Old Drummer and asked, "Why do we have to perform opera for a ghost?"
The Old Drummer stroked his drum and sighed. "Because our troupe wronged her first..."
"If we can't fulfill this last wish of hers, all of us will only die more horribly."
He had finally started talking!
Qin Manjiang struck while the iron was hot and pressed on. "Who is she? What last wish?"
The Old Drummer glanced at Qin Manjiang, and something suddenly shifted in his dim old eyes. He reached out and stroked Qin Manjiang's head. "Xiao Qi, you were never such a quick-witted child..."
Qin Manjiang immediately sensed trouble, but before he could react, the Old Drummer suddenly pinched a